Ngaio Marsh - The Nursing Home Murder

She looked gravely at him for a moment or two. “I’ll try,” she said at last. Alleyn took out a notebook and with an uneasy glance at it she began: “Soon after I came on duty a message came up that he was on his way and I was to ‘special’ him. I met the stretcher, put him to bed, and prepared him for operation.”

“Did you give an injection of any sort?”

“No. The usual injection of morphia and atropine was not given. Sir John’s injection of hyoscine took its place.”

“I see. Well, nurse?”

“While that was being done Lady O’Callaghan and Sir Derek’s sister arrived, and when the preparation was over they went into his room. He was semi-conscious. Am I doing this properly?”

“Admirably. Please go on.”

“Well, let me think. I was in the room with them at first. Lady O’Callaghan was very good — quiet, and didn’t upset the patient. Miss O’Callaghan was rather distressed. They sat down by the bed. I went out to speak to Sir John. When I came back they were talking together. Sir Derek was lying with his eyes closed, but he opened them for a moment and groaned. I think he was conscious just then and he seemed very uncomfortable. Lady O’Callaghan came out and spoke for a minute to Sir John. Then we all returned and Sir John made an examination. The patient seemed much easier, but I thought that now he was quite unconscious, more deeply so than he had been since he came in. Sir John diagnosed ruptured appendix abscess and offered to get Mr. Somerset Black to operate immediately. Lady O’Callaghan begged him to do it himself and he finally said he would. I took Lady O’Callaghan and Miss O’Callaghan out.”

Nurse Graham paused and looked very earnestly at the inspector.

“Was there any further incident before they left the room?” Alleyn asked.

“You mean—? There was something else, but please, Inspector Alleyn, do not attach too much importance to it. The patient, I am sure, did not realise in the least what he said.”

“What did he say?”

“He opened his eyes and said ‘Don’t — don’t let— ’ and then relapsed again.”

“Did you get any idea of what he was trying to say?”

“It might have been anything.”

“At what was he looking?”

“He looked at Sir John, who was nearest the bed.”

“How would you describe his look? Appealing? Entreating? What?”

“N-no. He — he seemed frightened. It might have been anything. He looked rather like a patient who had been given a drug — morphia, for instance. It’s a kind of frowning stare — I have often noticed it appear when the drug is beginning to take effect.”

“And yet you tell me he had not had anything of the sort.”

“I gave him nothing,” Nurse Graham said.

“There’s a curious inflexion in your voice, nurse. You gave him nothing? Now of what are you thinking?”

She moved uneasily and her face became rather pink…

“I have said nothing about this to anybody,” she told him. “It seemed to me a dangerous thing to speak of what was — was — not absolute fact.”

“Quite right. Don’t you think, though, that you should tell me? Nurse Graham, Sir Derek O’Callaghan was murdered.” He watched her closely. She seemed both startled and shocked. She gave a quick look as if she hoped she had mistaken what he’d said. After a moment he went on:

“He was given a lethal dose of hyoscine. At least four people come under the possibility of suspicion. The very incident you are shying away from might be the one to save an innocent person. I am too old a hand to jump at asinine conclusions. Do you really think you can do any good by keeping me in the dark?”

“Perhaps not.”

“Let me help.you. You think, don’t you, that someone had given O’Callaghan something — a drug of some sort?”

“It looked like it, and yet it was too soon for a drug to act.”

“What happened when you returned to your patient? What did you find?”

“You are — very acute,” she said. “When I went back I tidied the room. The patient seemed to be asleep. I lifted his eyelid and he was quite unconscious. The pupil was not contracted. I knew then that he could not have had morphia. Then I saw under a chair by the bed a small piece of white paper. I picked it up and noticed that it had broken pieces of sealing-wax on it. It was certainly not there when Sir Derek was admitted.”

“Have you kept it?”

“I — yes, I have. I wondered then if he had been given anything, and when the room was done out I put the paper into a drawer in his dressing-table. It will still be there.”

“I’ll look at it later on if I may. Who had sat in the chair?”

“Miss O’Callaghan,” she said uneasily.

“And Miss O’Callaghan was alone with the patient for — how long? Three minutes? Five minutes?”

“Quite five, I should think.”

“Notice anything else? Had he had a drink of water, do you think?”

“The glass on the bedside-table had been used.”

“You are a model witness. I suppose this glass has also been cleaned? Yes. A hospital is a poor hunting-ground for the likes of me. Now don’t worry too much about this. It may be quite beside the point. In any case it would have been criminal to withhold it. Consciousness of having done the right thing brings, I understand, solace to the troubled breast.”

“I can’t say it does to mine.”

“Nonsense. Now will you be very kind and get your scrap of paper for me? Bring Nurse Banks back with you, and don’t mention homicide. By the way, what did you think about her reception of the glad tidings— I gather she looked upon them as glad?”

“She’s an ass,” answered Nurse Graham unexpectedly, “but she’s no murderer.”

“What did she say exactly?”

“Oh, something out of the Bible about praising the Lord for He hath cast down our enemies.”

“Good lack!” apostrophised Alleyn. “What an old— I beg your pardon, nurse. Ask the lady to come here, will you? And if you hear me scream come in and rescue me. I’ve no desire to die at the feet of that marble goddess there — who is she, by the way— Anæsthesia?”

“I’ve no idea, inspector,” said Nurse Graham with a sudden broad smile. She went out briskly and returned in a few minutes to give him a small square of white paper such as chemists use in wrapping up prescriptions. Fragments of red sealing-wax remained on the margins and the creases suggested that it had contained a round box. Alleyn put it in his pocketbook.

“Nurse Banks is waiting,” remarked Nurse Graham.

“Loose her,” said Alleyn. “Good-bye, nurse.”

“Good-bye, inspector.”

Miss Banks made a somewhat truculent entrance. She refused a chair and stood uncomfortably erect, just inside the door. Alleyn remained politely on his feet.

“Perhaps Nurse Graham has told you of my business here?” he suggested.

“She said something about Scotland Yard,” sniffed Banks. “I didn’t know what she was talking about.”

“I am investigating the circumstances of Sir Derek O’Callaghan’s death.”

“I said all there was to say about it at that inquest.”

Alleyn decided that finesse was not indicated.

“You didn’t mention it was murder,” he remarked.

For a moment he thought she looked frightened. Then she said woodenly:

“It is?”

“Yes. What do you think of that?”

“How do you know?”

“The post-mortem revealed indications of at least a quarter of a grain of hyoscine.”

“A quarter of a grain!” exclaimed Banks. He was reminded of Phillips. Neither of these two had ejaculated “Hyoscine!” as one might have expected, but had exclaimed at the amount.

“Wouldn’t you have expected that to kill him?” he asked.